


How You Struck Me

by cazzy



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drabble Series, F/M, Reylo - Freeform, because that's all i am somewhat good at, mostly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6268177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazzy/pseuds/cazzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're inevitable.</p>
<p>[Drabble/ficlet collection.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beat

**Author's Note:**

> These were done a little while ago, but I've been busy with school and a few WIPs and feel bad about not updating anything recently! I actually managed to make these _drabbles_ this time, so I figured I'd start up a running collection of them here.

She's seen him more than a few times, now. He hangs out on the outskirts of the bleachers, always dressed in black and shrouded by the shadows cast by the benches, and he only ever appears during their late afternoon practices.

The girls are just finishing up with a quick chant, and Rey slams her stick with the others in the middle of their group before casually making her way over to him. "Big fan?" she asks, tone a touch aggressive. He startles, as though his voyeurism was never meant to be interrupted. Well, too bad. If he's a pervert getting his rocks off on watching her teammates beat up on one another, then, well, it's not the first time she's had to scare off assholes before.

"Yeah," he says after a moment. "Loved lacrosse for years, used to be on the men's team."

"But you don't play anymore?"

"Those random drug tests are killer," he says offhandedly, although the fact that he's averting his gaze and his shoulders are held tight indicate that there is more truth in the words than jest.

She's disgusting and sweaty, and Jessika had slammed her to the ground so hard during their scrim that she can feel the deep bruise blossoming on her hip already, but his kicked-puppy look is patently ridiculous.

"Practice always has me starving, let's go grab some dinner," Rey says.

The fact that she is telling him, not asking him, does not go unnoticed. His mouth is open as though he's about to come up with some excuse, but he thinks better of it as his full lips slip into a small smile.

"That sounds great."


	2. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo have great _chemistry._

"How the fuck do you look so hot in this ugly labcoat?" he moaned against her neck.

Rey chuckled, and he felt her neck tense underneath the attentions of his mouth. "I really don't."

It was a crisp, flared-out professional coat, and Kylo's opinion shifted immediately at the realization of how much hotter she would look without it obscuring her slim body.

Rey was fairly sure her coat was ruined as he shoved it off her body and slid big, warm hands underneath her shirt and up her abdomen. The college students had barely stepped out of the classroom before he'd climbed her like a tree, and Rey found it hard to complain as he sucked hard bruises into her collarbone.

"Professional as ever, Mr. Ren," she said breathlessly, and he growled - partially in annoyance at her coherence, and partially in arousal at her usage of his title.

He pushed her up against the lab table in retaliation, and she spared a thought for the poor lab writeups that their students had stacked neatly on the desk just before Kylo shoved them off in a graceless motion.


	3. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We could have saved you."

Somehow, dreaming about it night after night still does not give her the warning she needs. It's dark, much too dark to reveal to the others around her how often she wakes up, heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribcage at the thought, and so she pushes it down, beyond the memories of abandonment on an awful desert planet and into the deep recesses of her mind.

Master Luke speaks of the significance of letting such emotions dissipate into stardust and nothingness, but letting go of the rawness tight in her breast feels too similar to giving up.

There's just something about translating her dream world into reality - the tight grip on her lightsaber, the harsh panting of battleworn enemies - that slams into her mind, and maybe it's the Force or some kind of divine prophecy that's worming its way into her thoughts, but surrendering it to the ether is nigh impossible.

Nobody receives prophecies and expects them to be good news, anyway.

The pierce of her saber into his flesh staggers her as much as it does him. It's dark, save for the glow of their weapons, and his face is alight with the clash of _blueredblue._

"We could have saved you," she says, because it's what her master would have expected from her. It's easier than indulging in how _right_ the pressure of his slumping form against her own feels.

He remains silent but for the huff of laughter he breathes into her neck.

His gloved hand smears a trail of red across the bridge of her nose in a vicious mockery of his own marred face as he falls.


End file.
